


But With the Mind

by chamaenerion



Series: SPN Writing Challenges [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bodyswap, Fluff, M/M, Wingfic, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-27 11:10:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14424144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chamaenerion/pseuds/chamaenerion
Summary: Dean gets bodyswapped with Cas and discovers something unexpected.





	But With the Mind

**Author's Note:**

> for round 3 of the [deancas monthly writing challenge](http://deancaswc.tumblr.com/) on [tumblr](http://enocchian.tumblr.com/), prompt: bodyswap.
> 
> title from a midsummer night's dream  
>  _Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind;_  
>  And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.  
> act I, scene 1, line 234

It's not like Dean meant to piss off Rowena. Not any more than usual, anyway. He opens the motel door with a bang, ignoring Sam's "really, Dean?", and crosses the room to sit on the creaky chair in the corner.

He's immediately annoyed by the trench coat bunching under him when he sits, so he takes it off and throws it on the bed.

"Reverse it," he says, and taps the top of Sam's laptop.

Cas picks up the discarded coat and puts it on. It looks ridiculous over plaid.

"Oh sure," Sam says. "Let me just google how to put someone back into their own body when they've been swapped out with an angel. Easy."

"Bitch." The word passes through his throat like gravel. Damn, Cas' voice is deep.

"If I had my grace..." Cas shrugs, and he stares at Dean.

"Wait, I've got your grace?" Dean looks down at his new hands in alarm, like they might accidentally start smiting things.

Sam looks up from his laptop. "So could Dean put you back to normal?"

Dean kinda wants to try smiting something.

"I wouldn't advise it," Cas says, still staring at Dean like he knows exactly what he's thinking.

"Come on, man, how hard can it be?"

Before anyone can stop him, Dean concentrates really hard on that warmth he can feel in the center of his chest. Maybe he concentrates a little too hard, because he feels a sharp burn like lightning and he has a sudden flash of memory from years ago in an old barn watching Castiel walk through a cascade of sparks and a flash of--

"What the hell!" Sam says, clearly alarmed.

Dean opens his eyes and looks to Cas, expecting to see some change, but then he catches movement out of the corner of his eye. He nearly breaks his neck trying to turn around and see his own back-- and the glossy black wings sprouting from his shoulder blades.

"The hell?" he echoes weakly. He squirms and one wing spreads out suddenly and knocks over the lamp next to the bed.

Cas takes a step forward and both the wings immediately snap close to Dean's back, as inconspicuous as two gigantic wings can be.

"Dean," he reprimands. And it's strange how Cas still sounds so much like himself even with Dean's voice.

Sam is on the phone now, and Dean listens to him say, "don't hang up on me, Rowena, listen..." before turning back to Cas.

"How do I put your wings back?"

Cas shakes his head. "Those aren't my wings."

"The hell they aren't. They're attached to _your_ back, they came out of _your_ faulty grace."

Cas narrows his eyes, and in Dean's body it's not a good look. He makes a mental note, then groans and covers his face with hands that aren't his own.

"This must be how you imagine angel wings," Cas says, "and my grace latched onto a stray thought." The ' _my grace isn't faulty, you are_ ' is clear in his voice. He reaches out to touch one where it curves behind Dean's head, and Dean tenses, but the touch is gentle and his wings relax enough to fan out slightly.

"So," Dean says, trying not to think of the way Cas is trailing his fingers down the silky black feathers, "what do your wings look like?"

He almost misses Cas' smile when Sam breaks into their conversation with:

"So Rowena will put you guys back." And because it's never that simple, "She just wants a favor and a photo."

"A photo of-- fuck!" Dean tries to duck out of the way when Sam points his phone in his direction but he's not fast enough.

Sam just laughs. "Hang tight, I'll be back with Rowena soon as I can."

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," Dean calls as the door shuts behind him.

They fall into awkward silence for a few moments, and Cas drops his hand from the feathers. Dean half expects that he'll just disappear until this can be fixed... but he can't. He's stuck in Dean's body and Dean is stuck with Cas' grace and they are both stuck in this crappy motel room.

"I could really use a beer," Dean says.

"I sincerely doubt you would enjoy it. Everything tastes better as a human."

And that makes Dean a little sad, because Cas looks sad. Now that Dean's looking up at him, really looking, he starts to see something past the scowl and the flannel, deeper than bone and sinew. There's something bright there, a warm soft glow that seems orange and gold and white all at once.

"Dean," Cas says, suddenly leaning close, nearly standing between Dean's knees.

Dean looks up and bites down on disappointment when green eyes meet his.

"Let's go get you a burger," he says. Because if something good can come of this mess then Dean's sure as hell going to make it happen.

Cas grins widely, an almost childlike excitement breaking out across his face, and then just as quickly as it appeared it's replaced once more with a frown. When Cas reaches out and taps a finger on one of the wings Dean had nearly forgotten a shiver runs down his spine.

"Okay," Dean says quickly, and he stands, knocking Cas' arm out of the way. Any other person would take a step back, give him some space. But Cas stays where he is and their chests are nearly touching. It's weird, he thinks, looking at his own face. Even if this isn't the first time, this time is much more strange, because it's not a shifter, it's not a future version of himself, it's _Cas_.

His borrowed grace thrums with affection, so of course his wings swoop forward like some pseudo angelic version of a hug to close around the two of them.

"Um." Dean sighs and uses his arms to push the wings away. "Help me get rid of these."

"I rather like them."

"More than a double bacon cheeseburger?"

"Close your eyes," he says quickly, ignoring Dean's smug look. "And focus. Think of me as you normally see me, sans fluffy wings."

When Dean zeroes in on the grace again, it feels much the same as it did before and it's distracting. There's raw power radiating from every inch of his borrowed body, and it's electric and terrifying and barely contained.

And then, even with his eyes closed, he sees it. A flash of that same warm orange gold that feels like soft velvet compared to the white hot fire that crackles under his skin.

And he thinks _human_ , and _soul_. And he thinks _what the fu_ \--

And he's suddenly dizzy so he opens his eyes.

His own eyes, apparently, because he's looking slightly down now into blue irises that he knows like the back of his hand.

They blink at each other, or rather Dean blinks while Cas stares.

He asks, "Why do you have part of my soul?"

Cas' eyes widen. "I... I don't."

"Cas," Dean says, low and steady and trying not to freak out, "I saw it, I _felt_ it. Don't lie to me, man."

"I'm not," he insists. Before Dean can turn away, he reaches out and grabs his left shoulder. "Do you remember?'

Dean opens his mouth to ask, _remember what?_ , but then Cas' hand tightens and, _oh_.

"In Hell, you held onto me so tightly you left a mark of your own."

"On your grace?" Dean says, incredulous and disgusted with himself. Leave it to Dean Winchester to to taint everything he touches.

But Cas is smiling.

"Why is it still there? Your hand print is long gone, and you've died and come back more times than I have the past few years."

"The mark may be gone from your body," Cas shrugs, "but the tough of my grace still shows on your soul."

Dean suddenly feels warm, because he had seen it, that little glimmer of silver among all the gold. It's a strange thought, that the two of them have these hidden marks and Dean hand't even known. And he'll never see them again.

Something must have shifted in his expression because Cas leans forward into the few inches between them and says, "Dean?"

Cas hasn't removed his hand from Dean's shoulder, but Dean can hardly feel it through the trench coat he's still wearing. They're so close, and that's Dean's cue to back off, to pull away and maintain the distance they've kept for years.

But he's tired.

 _This is easy_ , he thinks when he reaches up to brush his thumb across Cas' cheek. He almost wants to laugh because pushing Cas away took so much effort and pulling him close is like breathing.

Cas leans into his hand, and he looks at Dean the way he's always looked at him... even if Dean had never really let himself see it before.

He sees it now. And the only thing to do is kiss him. So he does.

-

Later, he remembers to call Sam, who gripes about doing Rowena favors for nothing and gripes some more the next morning at breakfast because he had to get his own room when he saw Cas' tie on the door.

Dean just grins, pressed close to Cas in the diner's booth, and lets himself be happy.


End file.
